James Grippando: Last Call

Especially since he was innocent.

"Hey look who's here," said one of his barmaids.

Theo looked up from a sink full of cocktail glasses and saw Trina entering the bar. She was the closest he'd ever come to having a steady. He'd met her through his buddy Jack Swyteck, but only after circumstances had forced her to lay Jack out on the sidewalk with a martial arts kick. Almost immediately Theo knew he had to have this sexy brunette with the olive skin of a Latina supermodel and the mysterious accent of a Russian spy.

Trina walked straight to the bar and took a seat on a stool opposite Theo. She wasn't smiling.

"Hey baby" he said.

"Don't call me baby."

"You still mad at me? It ain't nice to hold a grudge."

She laid her purse on the bar top and crossed her legs. She had great legs. Strong, too. She'd kicked him in the ass enough for him to know.

"You bought me a bug for my birthday" she said.

"It's not a bug. It's a roach brooch."

"It was a live insect."

"Bred by a jeweler who happens to be an etymological genius."

"Ety-what?"

"Etygomical."

"See, you can't even say it twice. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"The man is still a genius."

"He's an idiot who glued diamond chips and sapphires onto a live cockroach and then figured out a way to attach it to a thin gold chain without killing it. You think I'm going to wear that thing around my neck and let a living, breathing insect crawl in and out of my cleavage?"

Mere mention of her cleavage set Theo's mind to wandering, but he reeled himself in. "It's a one-of-a-kind piece"

"Thank God for small favors."

"Baby-"

"I'm not your baby Stop calling me that."

"Okay fine. You don't like the roach brooch. Let me make it up to you."

"How?"

"I don't know. You name it."

She arched an eyebrow, obviously intrigued. "Do you mean that?"

"Sure. It was your birthday, and I blew it. Tell me how I can make good."

"Wow, that's really sweet of you. Anything I want?"

"Yeah. But don't get crazy on me."

She pondered it, then flashed a mischievous smile. "I know. This will be perfect. I want you to get…"

"Get you what?"

"No," she said coyly. "I don't think I should tell you tonight. I'll let you squirm a little. Like that cockroach you hung around my neck."

"You're just not gonna let that go, are you?"

She leaned across the bar, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him in for a kiss. "Keep your promise – anything I want – and we're square."

"You know me. I'm a man of my word."

"You'd better be. See you tomorrow."

Theo enjoyed the view as she turned and walked toward the door with a little attitude, all for his benefit. Then in a raised voice he announced, "That's it, you scumbags. Bar's closed."

A few groans rolled in from the crowd, but as soon as the bright lights went up, they scurried for the door like cockroaches – sans jewels.

The time was 2:10 a.m. when the last patron found the parking lot. Theo and two of his employees stayed behind for clean up and closing. He took the cash drawer into the stockroom, locked the door, and set himself up at the card table with a cup of coffee, a calculator, and his ledger book. Numbers were not his strong suit, but he didn't mind math as long as it involved money. He was up to $216 in cash receipts when he heard a noise from behind a wall of stacked beer kegs.

He put down the money and listened. Over the hum of the fluorescent lighting, he thought he heard breathing. Slowly, silently, he slid open the drawer. He always kept a loaded.38-caliber revolver in his desk, and he knew how to use it.

The gun wasn't there.

"Looking for this?"

The voice had come from across the room. Theo looked up and froze. The man was leaning against the tower of beer kegs, showing Theo the business end of his own Smith amp; Wesson.

"Be cool," said Theo. "Just take the money and go."

The man was dressed like a bum – pants with grease stains around the pockets and holes in the knees, and an old shirt with frayed cuffs and buttons that didn't match. But his demeanor was oddly cool for a robbery. "Don't you recognize me?"

"I ain't even seen your face, okay? No need to worry about me telling the cops what you look like. So grab the cash and get lost."

"Dude, look at me. Don't you know who I am?"

Theo let his eyes meet the gunman's, and recognition kicked in. Isaac?

He flashed a big smile. "How you doin', my man?"

Theo hadn't seen him in almost twenty years. He would have been happy to go another twenty. "How did you get in here?"

"Come on, dude. It's me, Isaac. The leader of the Grove Lords."

This was no overstatement. The Grove Lords had once ruled Miami – until every cop in the city made it a priority to land Isaac in prison. Theo searched his memory for old scores that Isaac might want to settle with him – anything that might explain his sudden reappearance after all this time.

Theo said, "Let's talk about this, all right? Put my gun down."

"Ain't your gun no more, bro'"

"What do you want?" said Theo.

"Can't I come see an old brotha'? Especially one as rich and famous as you?"

"Cut the crap."

"Serious, dude. The whole world knows about Theo Knight and Sparky's. Even the homeboys in the can."

It wasn't exactly the clientele Theo was looking for. "That's where I thought you was. In jail."

"You got that right" Isaac stepped out from around the tower of beer kegs. He was a good five inches shorter than Theo, but that still put him at almost six feet tall and solid muscle. He'd obviously made good use of the prison weight room. The clothes were definitely fresh off the back of a homeless person, though apparently not without a struggle. Theo noticed a fresh bloodstain on the left pants leg.

"When did you get out?"

"About six hours ago," said Isaac.

"Your first night out of prison, and you got nothin' better to do than to stick a gun in my face?"

"I guess you ain't seen the news yet tonight."

"All I watch is ESPN when I'm working."

"Too bad. You would have seen me all over the local stations, for sure. I bet I'm more famous than you now. Another kid from the 'hood makes good."

"What did you do?"

"Nothin'," said Isaac, smiling thinly. "Let's just say I had enough of those jerk-offs at TGK. I put myself on the early-release plan."

Theo didn't share the smile. A fugitive in his stockroom wearing the dirty and bloody clothes he'd obviously stolen from a homeless guy as a disguise – it was the last thing he needed.

"What do you want from me?" said Theo.

Isaac's expression turned very serious. "I had the perfect plan, see? New clothes, fake ID, cash, car, gun – it was all supposed to be waiting for me at the 7-Eleven on Eighth Street when I busted out. That was the deal. I show up exactly on time, but it ain't there. I got screwed, bro'!"

Theo glanced at the gun. "I got nothin' to do with that."

"I ain't blamin' you," he said, his voice calming. "But you know Isaac Reems. He always got hisself a plan B."

"Should have just robbed the 7-Eleven. That seems about your speed."

"You think you're the only one who's moved up in the world? The small time is way behind me. And even if it wasn't, I did my homework behind bars. A guy busts out of prison, the first thing cops watch is recent crime reports – stolen guns, cash, cars. Crimes like that leave a trail. I can't be leavin' no trails. So I asks myself: how can I get my hands on everything I need and be sure the cops don't find out about it? Then it hits me. I'll go see Theo Knight. I know he won't report it."

"You should have called a friend."

"Fugitives ain't got friends. You know how they caught the last dude who escaped from prison in Florida? His own momma turned him in."